He was a cattle-driver, with the
aid of only two peons, driving a herd of oxen and mules over the snowy
solitudes of the Andes to Bolivia and Chile. In this life, making
journeys of many months' duration, across interminable plains, he lost
exact account of time and space. Just as he thought himself on the verge
of winning a fortune, he lost it all by an unfortunate speculation.
And in a moment of failure and despair, being now thirty years old, he
became an employee of Julio Madariaga.
He knew of this rustic millionaire through his purchases of flocks--a
Spaniard who had come to the country when very young, adapting himself
very easily to its customs, and living like a cowboy after he had
acquired enormous properties. The country folk, wishing to put a title
of respect before his name, called him Don Madariaga.
"Comrade," he said to Desnoyers one day when he happened to be in a good
humor--a very rare thing for him--"you must have passed through many ups
and downs. Your lack of silver may be smelled a long ways off. Why lead
such a dog's life? Trust in me, Frenchy, and remain here! I am growing
old, and I need a man."
After the Frenchman had arranged to stay with Madariaga, every landed
proprietor living within fifteen or twenty leagues of the ranch, stopped
the new employee on the road to prophesy all sorts of misfortune.
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